


and then 'oh'

by ahin



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: (well kind of they're still in school), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Musicians, Pre-Slash, au in which they are all younger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 14:02:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9126913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahin/pseuds/ahin
Summary: In which Auguste, Laurent and Damen are up-coming musicians, their paths meeting when Damen stumbles upon the two brothers practicing.Laurent and Damen fall, and Auguste notices before they do.Written for the Captive Prince Secret Santa event - for gaihze!





	

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I'm very sorry for the lateness! I have no excuses, except my laziness and Christmas being... Christmas. 
> 
> Dear gaihze, I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and that you'll like this little fic :D  
> I tried to include lots of Auguste and young Laurent and Damen. I was searching for a good setting, and so I tried my hand at this musician/kids AU, which was also lowkey inspired by the anime Shigatsu wa kimi no uso (Your Lie in April). 
> 
> As for their ages- at the beginning, Damen is 13, Laurent is 10 and Auguste is 15. 
> 
> Links to the songs:  
> Edward Elgar - Salut d'amour: www.youtube.com/watch?v=bisdQUm9N2E  
> Camille Saint-Saëns - Introduction et Rondo capriccioso en la mineur: www.youtube.com/watch?v=GTns1NK4OVY

Damen opens the door to one of the many practice rooms, hoping it will be the room he’s supposed to meet with his new instructor. _Why is this place so huge_ , he wonders, stepping into the room.

Turns out this was not one of the practice rooms, but an auditorium. Just his luck. The hall reaches quite far, and from his spot at the very back he can see lines and lines of seats, ready for an audience. The chairs are upholstered and look comfortable enough to spend hours seated in them while listening to a performance on stage. Damen takes a step forward to touch the wine red backrest, letting his hand slide down the soft fabric absentmindedly.

Suddenly, music is filling the hall. A clear melody, played on a piano, reaches Damen’s ears, and he lifts his head towards the stage in curiosity. On the stage he sees a grand piano, impeccable white and shining, almost blindingly so. A boy is standing a little in front of the grand piano, a violin draped gracefully between his shoulder and chin. He is tall and lean, back posed straight and waiting for his cue, Damen recognizes instantly. He probably looks the same on stage, holding his own violin. His fingers twitch a bit, almost as if they are reacting to the boy and his violin on stage. The stage lights are illuminating his hair, and Damen thinks it looks like a halo. The boy’s whole presence makes him think _gold, he’s gold_.

A mere seconds later, he starts playing and Damen’s breath hitches involuntarily. He’s sucked into the music almost instantly, the boy with the golden hair creating a landscape with his violin that Damen can see clearly before his eyes. The ocean hitting on tall, white rocks. The wind is rushing in his ears and he can almost smell the salty air. He lets out a gush of breath.

The boy stops playing, but the room is not wrapped in silence as Damen expected. The accompanying piano is still playing, and Damen lets his gaze fall onto the white instrument on the stage. He spots a tiny figure perched on the piano stool, a child of maybe ten or eleven, Damen guesses. The stage lights are not directly on him, but Damen can still catch the same gold-blond hair as the other boy on stage. _Huh_.

The piano stops as well now, and Damen snaps out of his thoughts. The boy with the violin is saying something to the younger one at the grand piano, but Damen is too far away to hear them. They haven’t noticed him, so he could just quietly slip out of the auditorium and continue his search for his own lesson room. Before he realizes it, Damen is walking towards the stage. When he is halfway through the room, both boys on the stage settle their gazes on him. He doesn’t stop, meeting their gazes head on.

He goes up the steps onto the stage, and comes to a halt in front of the two golden haired boys. The boy that had played the piano is standing next to the older boy now. Two sets of almost identical blue eyes are looking at him. Damen is suddenly hit with nerves and the intensity of their gazes.

He swallows, and lets a friendly smile form on his lips. “Hey. Sorry to interrupt your practice, but I heard you playing and…” _And what?_ Damen laughs nervously, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “And before I knew it I was walking towards the stage. I’m Damianos, but just call me Damen,” he continues, suddenly unsure. He wonders if they think he’s weird.

Indeed, the two boys share a glance, but instead of laughing at Damen, the older one is lifting a hand in greeting. He has a kind smile on his face, albeit his eyes are sparkling with amusement. Damen guesses he’s maybe one or two years older than himself.

“Nice to meet you, Damen. I’m Auguste,” he says, and he and Damen shake hands. His hand is warm and strong, and has the same calluses from playing the violin as Damen’s own hand. Auguste turns to his side and Damen lets his eyes fall onto the younger boy next to him. Inquisitive, deep blue eyes are looking at him, framed by soft, almost angelic features.

“And this is my little brother, Laurent.”

Damen grins widely at the boy. “Nice to meet you, Laurent.”

 

* * *

 

 

Auguste sits down in one of the many chairs, lush cushion giving away under his weight, and opens a bottle of water. Laurent is sitting next to him, eyes on the stage in front of them. Auguste let his gaze wander there as well, watching Damen play the violin like an extension of his own body.

The tune of Edward Elgar’s _Salut d’amour_ opus 12 is floating through the wide space of the auditorium, clear and beautiful. A small smile builds on Auguste’s lips.

In the two years they had known Damen, it had become strikingly obvious he was meant for great things. He was what most people liked to call a child prodigy, but that was true for most students at this music academy, the most distinguished in all of England, and Europe. Nonetheless, his skills with the violin left even their instructors and fellow students in awe sometimes – he had the aptitude, diligence and what Auguste liked to call raw guts. _Instinct? Oh well, whatever,_ he thinks to himself and looks to the right where his little brother is seated.

After Damen is finished with his rehearsal for their upcoming Christmas Concert, it will be their turn. Auguste loves nothing more than to play together with Laurent, the sound of his violin and Laurent’s piano intertwining until their minds do as well, creating their perfect harmony. They too, were called child prodigies, the _golden brothers_ that left every audience with tears in their eyes.

He pinches Laurent’s side gently, making him jump and let out a little yelp.

“Auguste! What was that for,” Laurent grumbles at him, but Auguste just grins sheepishly.

“Sorry, you just looked so… pinchable!” He laughs, earning himself an annoyed glare from his brother. His grin just widens.

Laurent’s eyes get a sharp gleam, and he positions himself towards Auguste, both hands raised in clear gesture – he’s planning revenge. “Have mercy!” Augsute hollers, but Laurent is already pinching his sides, giggling loudly.

Auguste is laughing with him, the pinches tickling more than anything, and he spots Damen walking towards them. “Damen, help!” He shouts at him, and Damen looks at him in confusion at first, before his eyes get the same gleam as Laurent’s had earlier. Before Auguste knows what is happening, Damen is joining Laurent in tickling – when had this turned into a tickle attack?! – and Auguste is flailing with his limbs helplessly.

“Go for his armpits!” Laurent instructs, and Damen goes right for it.

“No, please, I surrender!” Auguste yells, and with a last few giggles from both his attackers (and a last, particularly ruthless tickle of his armpit), Laurent and Damen stop their attack.

His body is tingling all over as he looks at them breathlessly, two heads of bright blond hair and deep brown curls shaking with their own laughter.

“That was awesome, Laurent! You tickling technique is quite something,” Damen says, and he actually _sounds_ amazed, Auguste thinks.

“Of course, I do this a lot with Auguste,” Laurent replies, a wide smile brightening his whole face.

Damen ruffles his hair at that and Laurent lets him, his smile turning soft. Auguste blinks at that. _Oh_ , he thinks. But before he can wonder about it further, Damen turns to him.

“It’s your turn now, isn’t it? I can’t wait to listen to you guys,” he says, as if he hadn’t already heard them play over a hundred times.

“Yeah, we should go up,” Laurent replies in his stead, gripping Auguste’s hand and tugging him out of his seat. “Come on, Auguste!”

“Alright, alright,” he laughs. “Just let me grab my violin.”

When they’re on stage together, Auguste feels free. He can use his whole body, all the emotions that inhibit it, to create soft tunes and melodies on his violin, and he knows Laurent is right there with him. He sees Damen take his seat in the first row, looking up at them with excitement and anticipation shining in his eyes. Auguste starts playing.

They would play Camille Saint-Saëns’ _Introduction et Rondo capriccioso en la mineur_ opus 28 for the concert as their duet piece, before joining the rest of the students in the orchestra performances. He hears Laurent start playing the first notes and glides the bow over the strings.

Auguste feels the violin vibrating with the music, the first few notes of it, freeing themselves from the instrument and dancing in the air. They join the notes Laurent is creating and in his mind, he can see Laurent’s small fingers flying gracefully over the keyboard, over black and white. Auguste presses his smile into the smooth, cool wood of his violin and plays on.

 

* * *

 

 

Laurent thinks back on his childhood sometimes, and he can’t remember a time he didn’t play the piano. He knows that he started playing when he was 5, his mother teaching him the first few notes, his tiny fingers barely able to reach all the keys. His mother had smiled and praised him, continuing with the lessons until a professional instructor had taken over.

Even after his parents had died and they had gone to live with their uncle who did not care for music in the slightest, Laurent had continued playing. The piano was always with him. Just like Auguste. The two of them had always played together, practiced together and performed together. Auguste was like the sun, bright and warm and fierce, and Laurent loved him with everything he had.

Three years ago, they suddenly had been joined by Damen. Laurent didn’t really understand how that had happened. He had enrolled in their music academy and his genius with the violin was indeed undeniable. He joined them in practice, during lunch and after-school activities. Because his family didn’t live in the city, Damen stayed at the dorms and Auguste had invited him over to their house a few times. _It is strange_ , Laurent thinks, _but not uncomfortable_.

Damen and Auguste are scheduled to perform together at a gala in two weeks. They are too old to be called child prodigies anymore, Auguste eighteen and Damen sixteen years old. Nonetheless, that both these famous young, shining violinists are performing together is quite the event for the music scene.

Laurent watches them practice in one of the smaller rooms at the academy, the windows opened widely to let the cooling evening air inside. Engrossed in discussing something about their upcoming performance, none of them is paying him much attention. Laurent sees the curtains being moved by a breeze, watches it reach his brother and Damen, softly playing with their hair. Auguste says something then, and Damen laughs heartily. _Smiling looks good on him_ , Laurent thinks, eyes fixed on Damen’s face. They sweep over his features, his unguarded eyes and strong nose, the grin on his lips and the brown locks falling into his face. _He’s beautiful_ , Laurent thinks.

And then _oh_ , an electric shock surging over his spine. The fine hairs on the back of his neck are standing up, and Laurent feels his heart pounding. His eyes are still fixed on Damen.

 _Oh_.

 

* * *

 

 

Damen puts his violin back into its case, clipping it shut. He’s done with practice for today, but still has to go to the library to finish some assignments for school.

He is eighteen now and will graduate in about half a year, his last months as a student at the academy. He has countless offers from institutions, orchestras and other academies from all over the world, asking for him, almost begging. But he is lost, can’t decide. He loves London, the buzz of the city, never-ending life and excitement and people from all corners of the world assembled. He loves this academy. He knows he should go out into the world, see more cities and meet more people, develop his music. He knows.

But still, Damen is lost.

He’s not even sure why he’s hesitating – he had always been a traveler, and even leaving his hometown to come to London when he had been only thirteen had not been a hard decision. Damen sighs deeply.

“What are you being dramatic about now?” He hears a familiar voice say. Damen turns and finds Laurent by the door of the room, blond hair bound in a small braid. He’s leaning on the door frame, posture elegant, right hand resting on his hips. A small laugh escapes Damen.

“I’m not being dramatic. I’m just dreading the essay I have to write for my history class, I _hate_ essays. I’d rather just take an oral exam,” he complains, seeing an amused glitter lighting in Laurent’s eyes.

“Dramatic enough, I’d say. You’re acting as if this is not one of the last essays you’ll ever have to write,” he says, voice trying for criticizing, but ending up sounding close to a laugh.

“But still! And I just picked that up from Auguste. A bit more and he could have joined the drama club, no audition needed. I remember that one time when he just lay on his bed for three hours straight, staring at the ceiling and sighing every five minutes,” Damen comments, the memory surfacing with a chuckle. He had been sitting in Auguste’s room with Laurent, each of them trying to finish some homework while enjoying the others’ company, but Auguste had given up after only 30 minutes and proceeded to flop down on his bed.

Laurent laughs lightly at that, a hand coming up to the side of his mouth.

“I remember that. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had gone bald with how much he was agonizing about where to go after graduation. And now you’re being the same,” he says, walking into the room to stand beside Damen, violin case still on the table in front of them.

“I can’t help it, really. My head is still full of school work and all the things I have to do before graduation, but everyone is already asking about what I’ll do after that,” Damen says, his voice slightly sulky. He just wants to graduate in peace and _then_ decide, but no.

Beside him, Laurent laughs again. Damen knows it must be because of his sulking, but he realizes he doesn’t mind being laughed at. He looks down to get a better view of Laurent, his face still brilliant with laughter and mirth. _He’s lovely_ , Damen thinks.

“You could join the London Symphony Orchestra, like Auguste did,” Laurent says after a moment. “I’m sure you got an offer from them, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I got one. A generous one, too.” Damen sighs again. “But I also got offers from New York, Vienna and São Paulo. I love London, but – I don’t know,” he finishes, lamely. Because he really doesn’t know.

Laurent doesn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes seeming bluer than usual as he stares at him. Damen sways a bit closer to Laurent, their shoulders almost touching. He can see the fine lashes framing his eyes in detail, his small ear surrounded by gold. Damen lifts a hand to Laurent’s head, tucking a strand of his hair that had escaped from his braid behind his ear, almost absentmindedly.

Laurent freezes, and Damen freezes in return. _Shit_. He hadn’t even thought about doing that, it had just – happened. He hastily withdraws his hand, clearing his throat.

“Sorry, about – that,” he says, voice a tad rough.

“No, it’s, it’s okay. I don’t mind,” Laurent replies. He has cast his face to the side, but the ear behind which he had just tucked Laurent’s hair is red. Damen suppresses the urge to lift his hand again.

“Anyway,” Laurent begins, and Damen can hear how he’s trying to keep his voice steady.

“You should go where you want. You’re good, but you can become even better. It’s not like there is much binding you to London,” he says, voice turning serious. Sometimes Damen forget that he’s still fifteen with how he’s acting so much like an adult already.

“But there is,” Damen replies. “There is something binding me to London.”

And it’s like an honest to god lightbulb going on inside his head. The reason why he’s so lost about what to do, where to go.

“You’re here. You and Auguste, you are in London,” he says, voice soft. Laurent lifts his gaze, staring at him in bewilderment. His mouth has fallen open a little. _He’s beautiful_ , Damen thinks.

Suddenly, he’s overcome with the urge to ask.

“Will you wait for me? If I leave London, will you wait for me?”

He doesn’t know why he’s asking this, why now.

But then Laurent’s face turns soft, his eyes glinting in amusement and warmth.

“Of course,” he says. He hesitates for a moment, but then continues. “There are still three years before I graduate, so I’m not going anywhere,” he tells Damen, almost as if it’s a secret, and Laurent doesn’t dare tell anyone else. Damen feels so happy it’s almost painful.

And then o _h, so that’s why_.

Damen smiles, and doesn’t feel as lost anymore.


End file.
